The Swing
Fallen leaves.
Withered tree.
Time stood still.
I will come to the garden
caress dreams
of children and our home.
I left love
calming for me the whole world.
I was looking for her all my life.
Now it's too late.
Miles Davies cuddles loneliness.
I'm a girl swinging in the past.
Poetry by Anna Banasiak
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Written on 2018-02-14 at 21:35
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